


A Little Beacon of Light

by only_love_can



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dream SMP Season 1 Finale, Dream Smp, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Manberg Festival on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Stressin, and Depressin, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_love_can/pseuds/only_love_can
Summary: They had won their land back. The war for L’manburg was finally over. But at what cost?For some, it would never truly be over.
Kudos: 8





	A Little Beacon of Light

**Author's Note:**

> Well... I’m making Minecraft YouTuber fanfics now!... This should be interesting :) Hope you guys like this one!

_Tick..._

_Tick..._

_Tick..._

The sound—the rhythmic ticking in his head—was growing louder and more urgent. Perhaps this was similar to the voices his brother had once told him about. Ever-present. Ever-persistent. Ever-resounding, no matter how many times he tried to shut it out.

“What are you doing?”

His entire frame froze, though his bones were still on fire. Wilbur acknowledged the presence without turning away from the stone wall of the chamber.

“Phil?”

“What are you doing?”

“Phil.”

The man hummed, and Wilbur finally turned to face him head on, brows knit anxiously. He opened his mouth to explain, but he was beat to it.

“Yeah. It’s in L’manburg, you said?” Phil stood his ground at the entryway, arms crossed and face neutral.

“This is L’manburg,” Wilbur tried reasoning, knowing however that this was a losing battle. He sighed. “Okay, I will admit…” He stepped aside, revealing the precious source of his torment. “Do you know what this button is?”

“Uh huh. I do.”

“Have you heard the song on the walls before? Have you heard the song?”

His feet wandered the little room while his hands played with his loose curls. All the while, Phil watched him carefully with a curious gaze.

_Tick... Tick... Tick..._

“I was just saying,” Wilbur began in a rush, “I made this big point, and it was poignant and it was um... there-there _was_ this special place where men could go, but it’s not there anymore, you know? It’s not…” He stopped his fretful pacing and ranting at the sudden contact of a warm, gentle hand on his shoulder.

“It _is_ there,” the man said with a grin. “You just won it back, Will.”

“Phil, I’m always _so_ close to pressing this button!” He shouted, tears beginning to pool in his eyes. He looked so tired, the other thought. “Phil, I have- I have been here, like seven or eight times, I have been here… seven or eight times.” As he backed up into the wall, Wilbur buried his now wet face in his hands with a sigh. “Oh, they’re going to come and… I need to block this off. I don’t want them in here, I don’t want—”

The older of the two balled his hands into fists at the weakness in Wilbur’s voice.

“Phil, I-I have been here so many times. They’re fighting. They’re _fighting_.”

“And you want to just blow it all up.” It was a statement. Not a question. Despite the conflict, Phil knew his son. Maybe sometimes better than Wilbur knew himself.

The younger breathed out in defeat as he admitted, “yeah, I do, I do, I think…”

“You fought so hard to get this land back. So hard.”

“I don’t even know if it works anymore, Phil. I don’t even know if the button works. I could- I could… press it, and it might…”

His deep, shadowy eyes found themselves once again on the little piece of wood.

_Tick… Tick… Tick…_

“Do you really wanna take that risk?” Phil embraced him by both shoulders this time, turning him away from the object. Wilbur studied his expression, only finding the kindness and sincerity he always knew him for. “There is a lot of TNT potentially connected to that button.”

“Phil,” Wilbur started, removing the other’s hand, only to linger for a moment. “There was a saying, Phil, by a traitor once part of L’manburg. A traitor I don’t know if you’ve heard of. Eret?”

“Yeah.”

“He had a saying, Phil…” Tears were streaming freely down his face, but for an instant, the hesitation had resided, and it was enough for Wilbur. It was finally time to finish it, he dreamed blissfully. “It was never meant to be.”

In one swift motion, Wilbur slammed a hand onto the button.

“Oh my god…” Phil’s eyes were wide before he jumped into action, wings already out and prepared to shield him from the blast.

The explosion was almost instantaneous, the deafening sound rattling the remains of the stone chamber. Both men stood as the dust cleared, observing the wave of damage done throughout the country once built for them.

_Tick. Tick—_

“Oh my god!” Phil gaped at the vastness of it all. “Will! It’s all gone!”

Wilbur smirked, a dangerous laugh rising from his throat. “My L’manburg, Phil! My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished! If I can’t have this, no one can, Phil!”

“Oh my god.”

The fire in the revolutionary’s gaze then swirled into something more of a maniacal typhoon. His voice was low and hushed when he said, “kill me, Phil. Phil, kill me.”

He dropped his own sword at his feet, the blade shining in the setting sun. A beautiful mockery.

“Phil, _kill me_. Phil, stab me with the sword. Murder me now! Kill me. Look, they all want you to!” He waved an arm out towards the crowd of enemies and allies below. He swore he caught Tommy’s eyes looking back for a moment, and he turned away at the raw fear behind them. “Do it, Phil. Kill me. Phil, kill me—”

“You… you’re my son,” he cried.

“Phil, _kill me!_ ”

“No matter what you did, no matter what you want, I can't—”

“Phil! This isn’t— Look. Look! How much work went into this, and it’s gone?”

At last, Phil took a good look at the scene, taking in the rubble of a once grand and tyrannical L’manburg. It was done. Their ruler was no more, and what the nation once was was reduced to memory. What was there left to do?

“Do it.”

His mouth dropped, and his heart sank as he marveled in the man before him. Perhaps it was cruelly true, what was meant to be.

With an arm holding his son tight, Phil made use of his blade. He didn’t dare open his eyes, but instead tried with all his might to relish in the silence he longed for for so long.

The voices were at peace.

The air was still.

With his boy in his embrace and his chest aching at the foreign lifelessness of his son, Phil found himself softly humming a familiar tune.

_And my chest, though it ached, there was hope,_

_A little beacon of light._

_Though my sunniest days are now stolen away,_

_I still had our son by my side._

_And as he looked up at me with those wondering eyes,_

_I just knew that I must protect him with my life,_

_And make a land that is good and a land that is free,_

_For the better of you and of me._

“Phil.” The man looked down in a heartbeat at Wilbur’s strong yet failing voice. “It’s Technoblade.” He smiled—genuinely smiled—up at his father’s face even as the light slowly faded from his softening eyes. “It’s Technoblade.”

“The most powerful person on the server is the traitor?”

“And he has eight withers, ready to go.”

“Oh my god. Wait, what do you mean?” He grinned through hell.

“Go as fast as you can, Phil,” Wilbur encouraged. Then, just then, Phil could see the old Wilbur—happy and full of hope—in his smile. “Go see them. Go on.”

Phil cried out, clinging to his child, for they had reached the end of their road. And truthfully, he wasn’t ready. Nothing, not even war, could prepare him for this kind of bone-deep agony.

And yet, through the never-ending flow of tears for a boy lost too young and too full of dreams, he saw him beaming back at him.

In his son’s eyes, it was almost as if everything was at last right with the world.

“We won… we won…”

**Author's Note:**

> Should I do more fics like this? Let me know what you think!


End file.
